


Sport

by fourfreedoms



Series: Ruins [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, ruins verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-11
Updated: 2008-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam helps Dean with his homework. </p><p>Something of a prequel to <i>Ruined For All That Follow</i> and its companion <i>Silver Anniversary</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hkath](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hkath).



It’s rare for Sam to come home and find Dean doing his homework. But he has a hard on for his English teacher, a Ms. Lipton or something. He’s actually trying these days. Although Sam is still pretty sure that Dean read every other section of _Grapes of Wrath_ , and watched the Demi Moore version of the _Scarlet Letter_. He knows that Dean at least attempted Gatsby, because they had a conversation about it last week that went like so:

“Holy shit, this Nick dude is a homo!” 

Sam who’d read Gatsby when he saw it appeared on the advanced reading list in 7th grade lifted his brows. “Yeah?” 

“I didn’t realize they wrote about shit like that back then!” 

Sam snorted. “Man, you’re going to love _Brideshead Revisited_ when you get to it.”   
Dean looked up. “Who was that by? Eve something? Nah that was last year, not even going to bother.” 

Sam sighed and said, “You can be the most merciless bonehead, sometimes.” 

Dean had popped his gum at the back of his teeth and grinned. “You know it.” 

Today Dean leafs through some old leather-spined volume of poetry he probably got from the library. 

Sam makes himself a PB & J with the last of the chunky peanut butter. “What you up to?” he calls from the kitchen. 

“I gotta memorize a fuckin’ poem for class.” 

Sam gets himself a glass of milk and then sits down across the table. “What’d you choose?” 

“It’s Marvell, ‘To His Coy Mistress.’”

“Never heard of it,” Sam says and leans back in his seat. He sort of thinks he can figure out the appeal just from the title. “Well, read it to me?” 

Dean huffs out a sigh. “Why?”

“You’re never going to memorize it if you just stare at it.” 

“I’m going through it in my head!” He says back. 

“Now do it out loud,” Sam cajoles, “C’mon, I want to hear it. 

“Just so you know? I hate you,” Dean says and sighs again. “ ‘Had we but world enough, and time,/This coyness, lady, were no crime./We would sit down and think which way/To walk, and pass our long love's day—’” 

“Whoa, slow down, Speed Racer!” Sam interrupts. “I can barely understand you.” 

Dean flushes but goes slower, “ ‘Thou by the Indian Ganges' side/Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide/Of Humber would complain. I would/Love you ten years before the Flood;/And you should, if you please, refuse/Till the conversion of the Jews.’” 

Sam grabs the book out of his hands and scans the text. “There’s no pause after side or refuse.” 

Dean pulls it back. “What? Do you want me to read it or not?” 

“I’m just giving you some pointers, you only pause with the punctuation, a line break is just for like rhyme scheme or whatever,” Sam says and then takes a long drink of his glass of milk. “You should keep going though.” 

Dean expression could kill a rabid bear. Sam grins back. “Fine! ‘My vegetable love should grow/Vaster than empires, and more slow./An hundred years should go to praise/ Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze.” 

Dean has a nice reading voice, deep and even. Sam props his chin on his fist and listens for more. 

“ ‘Two hundred to adore each breast.’” He pauses to look up and grin at Sam. It spreads across his face quickly, a flash of teeth before he ducks down again. “ ‘But thirty thousand to the rest;/An age at least to every part,/And the last age should show your heart./For, lady, you deserve this state,/Nor would I love at lower rate.’”

Sam tries to imagine Dean using this on some girl and it occurs to him he probably will if it doesn’t work on Ms. Lipton. He shakes his head and snorts. 

Dean shoots him a quick look but continues on. “ ‘But at my back I always hear/Time's winged chariot hurrying near;/And yonder all before us lie/Deserts of vast eternity.’ ” And then Dean leans forward very deliberately in his seat, eyes on Sam the entire time. “ ‘Thy beauty shall no more be found,/Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound/My echoing song; then worms shall try/That long preserv'd virginity,/And your quaint honour turn to dust,/And into ashes all my lust.’”

Sam wonders briefly if his cheeks are burning as hot as they feel. “That’s terrible! That’s really terrible.” 

Dean chuckles. 

Sam gets to his feet. “I’m totally serious!” 

Dean bends his head over the book and laughs harder. “Do you—want me—to go on?” he asks between laughs. 

“No, read it in your head!”


End file.
